Destiny
by AlternateReality12
Summary: Ten years have passed since the defeat of Malefor. Spyro has been having strange, recurring nightmares that have left him unsettled. Beginning to question his motives, the purple dragon will soon learn that those who believe to have their lives figured out are in for the rudest awakenings. T for language and mild adult innuendos. M/F as well as M/M pairings. Don't like, don't read.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: This story has a few altered elements from the game, you'll find out as you read on.**

* * *

"You are alone here, young dragon. You have always been alone. Still, here  
you are, trying desperately to save this miserable world, refusing to accept  
the true role of the purple dragon."

The words echoed in his mind; over and over again. He saw the face of the one  
called the Dark Master cackle and stare at him, belittling, mocking, and  
demeaning him. A dark veil of fear was slowly closing in around him, and he  
could feel himself becoming parylized with overwhelming terror. He felt his  
eyes tear up, and he wanted to run, but there was nowhere _to_ run. He  
felt alone; indeed, that part of Malefor's statement had been true. He  
_was_ alone. The only other dragon of his kind, in the entire world, was  
standing across from and cackling at him. The one dragon that he wished he  
could relate to was his worst enemy, and that thought along with the  
crippling fear that seemed to surround him in every corner brought him to his  
knees, and eventually onto the ground. The entire room was becoming nothing  
but blackness, and the wretched laughter of Malefor echoed more and more, and  
the volume increased at the same rate.

In a much lower, much more menacing tone, he heard the Dark Master speak once more,

"Accept your role and stop fighting it. What is to be done _must_  
be done."

Spyro awoke immediately, his heart racing and breathing quick and shallow. He  
quickly turned to look to his side, and, to his relief, he found his mate  
sleeping peacefully. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and stood  
up before wiping a few panicked tears from his eyes. He needed a drink of  
water, and started walking toward a nearby pond.

This was the third night in a row that the horrific nightmare that he had  
just experienced had run through his subconscious. The first night it had  
happened, he attributed it to stress, but this occurrence had made three  
instances. He shook his head and tried to clear his mind; it had to be  
nothing. Malefor had been sealed away for ten long years now, and had no  
means of escaping. The planet had pieced itself back together, and he had  
started a wonderful life with his beloved mate, Cynder. He nodded; this was  
nothing more than the result of stress coming from the intense training he  
was giving his pupils in Warfang for the past few days.

Upon reaching the pond, Spyro stared down at the water for a few moments and  
studied himself. He had reached his adult size, and it was clearly visible in  
his surprising height, build, and face. His eyes resembled those of Ignitus,  
his cheeks those of Volteer, and his muzzle, that of Malef-he paused. No,  
there was no way he had _any_ trace of _that_ dragon in his  
physique. He shook his head again; why was Malefor on his mind as of late? He  
had not a clue, but as much as he did not want to admit it, he could in fact  
see a trace of the Dark Master's snout in his own. He moved forward slightly,  
stepping into the water a few feet, and studied more of his reflection. He  
noticed now, for the first time, that the contours of his chest were very  
similar to those of Malefor as well. He swallowed hard, and tried desperately  
to fight that fact, but it remained, nonetheless. Snarling, Spyro swatted his  
right paw into his reflection, and watched the rippling water distort it  
into a meaningless blob of purple and gold.

He looked up at the full moon, and breathed a quivered sigh, "I know what my  
problem is. I need some fucking _sleep_." That fact was true; since the  
nightmares had started, his sleep was minimal.

He hung his head and started to walk back to the cave he and Cynder had made  
their home. He smiled at the thought of her; as far as he was concerned, she  
had been the only one keeping him sane these past few days. Her love for him  
had always brought his heart and mind to ease, and seeing her face at the end  
of each day always sent him to sleep with a warm smile on his snout. He  
reached the mouth of the cave, and, not surprisingly, found her sitting there  
awaiting his return.

She gave him an expression of concern as she spoke, "I was beginning to  
wonder where you went."

He walked up to her and touched his nose to hers, "Don't worry, I just needed  
to take a walk. I had a bad dream, that's all."

He had not told her about the nightmares. She had no reason to think about  
Malefor after what he had put her through thirteen years prior, and Spyro  
felt that telling her about his dreams would only stir up bad memories. He  
was, however, finding it much harder this night to keep it from her after the  
dream having occurred this third time. He softly sighed to himself and tried  
his best to repress it.

"Do you want to talk about it? I know how unsettling some nightmares can be."

Spyro shook his head with a warm smile, "No love, it's a lot more silly than  
it was frightening, thinking about it now." He sat down beside her, and she  
laid her head against his as the two stared out at the night sky.

"The moon sure is pretty tonight, isn't it, Spyro?"

He looked up at it once more, and nodded in agreement, "It sure is. Come to  
think of it, the whole night itself is pleasant."

Cynder let out a soft yawn before she continued the conversation, and she  
moved her body closer to his, "Any night with you is a pleasant one."

Spyro felt a laugh well up, and as much as he tried to hold it back, he  
started snickering.

She smirked and turned to look at him, "What?"

The purple dragon could not hold back the laughter now, "Wow, Cynder, that  
was probably the corniest thing you've ever said."

She smiled and playfully punched him in the arm, "You're a jackass, you know  
that? Well then, if you want some more edge and origniality, I guess I could  
say that tonight reminds me of our night in the meadows a few weeks ago."

Spyro blushed heavily and looked to the ground with an embarassed grin across  
his face, "Well, that night _was_ a lot of fun, I can't lie."

She got up and started walking back to the corner of the cave where they  
slept, and replied, "Another jab at my corny comments like that, and I won't  
let you use the collar next time."

"Cynder!" He shook his head and got up to follow her back to bed, but  
swallowed hard as he got closer. He hoped that the nightmare didn't occur  
again, or worse, continue.

* * *

Ignitus looked out at the night sky as he sat comfortably on a balcony that  
overlooked Warfang. A gentle, comfortable breeze blew, and he rested his head  
against Cyril's neck.

"I haven't seen a night this nice in years, have you?"

The ice guardian smiled softly and shook his head in reply, "I can't say that  
I have, Ignitus." Cyril, as cynical as he was, found himself letting out a  
content sigh, "I feel like you and I don't get enough of these nights, where  
it's just us."

Ignitus brought his snout to Cyril's right cheek, and gave him a soft kiss,  
"You really should let your sweet side show more often."

Cyril blushed, "Well, consider yourself privelaged to see it."

"Mmm," Ignitus looked to the ground and paused for a few seconds, "I can't  
help feeling, though, that something isn't quite right."

The ice dragon turned to him, and gave him a concerned expression, "What do  
you mean?"

The fire guardian turned to Cyril, "I don't know. But something is making me  
feel uneasy. Like I said, I can't pinpoint it." He shook his head and laughed  
lightly, trying to fight it off, "I'm sure it's nothing. Just an odd feeling  
brought on by old age."

Cyril smiled, "Well, shall we go to bed then? Perhaps some sleep would help."

Giving a nod, Ignitus stood up, "I think you're right. I'm sure I'll feel  
better in the morning." He looked out into the night before turning to follow  
his mate, and mouthed to himself, "At least, I hope so."


	2. Fear

"Spyro, you need to get up, you're going to be late to give your training  
today," Cynder licked the right cheek of her sleeping mate, coaxing him out  
of the deep slumber that he had fallen into.

Slowly opening his eyes, Spyro let out a long, deep yawn before replying, "I  
guess I just overslept," he stood up, cracked his back in a few places, and  
turned to face Cynder, "I've," he paused, "I've never done that before."

The black dragoness standing opposite of him let an expression of concern  
overtake her face, "Dear, please, if there's something wrong, I want to help.  
You haven't been acting yourself the past few days."

He yawned again, and shook his head, "Cynder, I'm fine. I've just been under  
a lot of stress lately, that's all. The guardians and I have been trying to  
get the students ready for their final evaluations, and that takes a lot of  
extra training."

She walked up to him and gently nuzzled her snout to his, "Don't overwork  
yourself, okay? Their training is important, but your health is, too."

He smiled warmly and licked her snout affectionately, "You're perfect. I feel  
like I don't tell you that enough."

She giggled lightly and licked him back before nuzzling his neck, "Alright  
loverboy, you better be off to Warfang. You don't want Cyril up your ass for  
being late."

He smirked, "Hopefully Ignitus put him in a good mood this morning."

She grinned and let her mouth hang agape slightly, "You're awful, Spyro."  
Chuckling, she waved him off, "Alright, get going, professor."

Spyro stuck his tongue out playfully at her before turning to fly off to  
Warfang, and she rolled her eyes with a chuckle before heading to the nearby  
pond to wash up.

As he flew, the purple dragon kept thinking about the nightmare. He wanted so  
desperately to know why, ten years after the whole crisis had ended, that  
thoughts and dreams of Malefor were surfacing. Being entirely sure that the  
Dark Master had been defeated once and for all, he did his best to forget as  
much as he could about it. And for the longest time, that tactic had worked.  
He kept telling himself that stress had caused this, but as the moments kept  
passing, he wondered more and more if there was a chance that these  
occurrences could be a signal for something in the future. He had heard of  
recurring dreams, but it was the combination of the facts that this dream was  
incredibly vivid, it had surfaced so abruptly, and it had intentions of  
remaining in his mind for quite some time that made him feel uneasy.

And then there was his reflection in the pond that previous night. There were  
definitely some similarities to the build of Malefor in his own, and he had  
not given it any thought until the dreams. As he pondered it more, he glanced  
at one of his arms as he flew, and noted that his shade of purple had indeed  
darkened since his youth. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and then the  
voice of the Dark Master echoed through his mind again, with a force like a  
bolt of lightning.

_It seems we share other qualities besides that of our color._

He closed his eyes and shook his head, whispering to himself, "No, Spyro,  
you're not like him. You're nothing like him, and you never will be."

After a few more moments of flying, he landed outside of the front doors of  
the training center in Warfang. It had been built as an expression of  
gratitude by the Mole race to the dragons after the Malefor Crisis, as it had  
come to be called. It was a beautiful building, modern and very dragon-  
accomadative after an incredible expanse of technologial knowledge when the  
planet had returned to peace. It utilized electric lighting, a feature that  
Volteer had gone excitedly on about for days on end, and featured indoor  
plumbing and temperature control. The purple dragon took a deep, calming  
breath before entering the buildling, finding that Cyril was there to greet  
him.

"Why Spyro, I'm glad to see that you've decided to show up today. I was  
beginning to think your students would have to teach themselves."

The ice guardian was in one of his moods, which Spyro considered to be the  
last thing that he needed right now, and he sighed before replying, "I'm  
sorry, Cyril. I had a rough night. It won't happen again, okay?"

"Spyro, you do realize that we're training the future generation, right? This  
isn't just a job for you. If something like the Malefor Crisis happenes  
again, we have to have forces ready to fight back."

The purple dragon was getting annoyed at his comments a lot more quickly than  
he normally did, due to the lack of sleep, and he sighed, "Cyril, I know,  
okay? This is important to me, I just had a very bad night." He started  
walking toward the room where his students awaited.

The ice guardian followed him, and kept talking, "Is it, Spyro? Punctuality  
matters, and one late day is one too many."

Spyro gritted his teeth, "I know, Cyril. I know."

Cyril sighed, "I don't like your tone, Spyro-"

"Would you shut your damn mouth, you cranky old bastard?!"

The ice dragon let his mouth fall agape, and he found nothing to reply with.  
Spyro had never spoken like that to him before, and he looked around, still  
searching for something-anything-to say.

The purple dragon quickly turned and looked at Cyril, a shocked yet  
apologetic expression across his own face, "Cyril, I," he looked to the floor  
and then back at the ice guardian, "Cyril I'm so sorry, I, I didn't mean  
that. Not one word."

Cyril looked down and shook his head softly, "N-no Spyro, I was wrong for  
pushing you like that. I wish you a-a productive day with your students." He  
walked away, still completely taken back by Spyro's fiery reply.

Spyro hung his head as he walked the rest of the way to the training room,  
feeling absolutely awful about the way he had spoken. He mumbled softly to  
himself, "There's something wrong with me." He stopped walking when he was  
passing a mirror on one of the walls, and he looked at himself once again. He  
concentrated on the color of his scales, his snout, and chest. He could see  
the Dark Master in all of those attributes. And now, he was snapping at those  
close to him.

He stared his reflection in the eyes, "No! I'm not him! He's dead! He's gone!  
And he's never coming back!"

"Spyro? Are, are we training today?"

Startled, the purple dragon turned quickly to see the source of the inquiry,  
and found that it had come from one of his students. Her name was Sygil, a  
young blue dragoness, who happened to be his best student. He took a deep  
breath and smiled back at her as he replied.

"Of course, Sygil. My apologies, I was just thinking about something."

He walked over to join her as they both walked back the small distance left  
to the classroom, and she continued their conversation.

"I've been practicing my ice attacks a lot, Spyro!"

The purple dragon looked down to her and smiled, "Have you now? Well, Cyril  
will be glad to hear that."

She nodded, "I just hope I make Cyril proud in my final evaluation. I like  
him, but sometimes he can be kind of hard to impress."

Spyro chuckled softly, "Sygil, you have no idea."

She nodded, and kept quiet for a few seconds, but then looked back up to him,  
"I wish I was a purple dragon like you. It kind of stinks being stuck with  
one element."

Spyro smiled when he heard that comment. Sygil looked to him as a role model,  
and he tried his best to fulfill that role. It was refreshing to receive  
praise from his pupils-especially now, after his experiences the past few  
days.

"Well then, that should give you all the more incentive to become a complete  
master of your element then, right?"

She grinned at him, "I guess you're right, Spyro. Am I going to work with you  
or Cyril today?"

He chuckled, "I'll have you work with me today. Cyril's in one of his moods,  
so I think it's best we let him be." Both dragons walked into the classroom,  
and the training began for the day.

* * *

_Is anyone there? Hello? Who am I kidding; there's never anyone there. All _  
_that's here is fear. No day, no night, just eternal darkness. When's the last _  
_time I was happy? Was I ever happy? What is happiness? How long have I been _  
_here? A year? A hundred? Hell, a thousand? Why do I even care? Used and _  
_betrayed twice. I really shouldn't care anymore, but I do. Go fucking _  
_figure._

A purple dragon wandered aimlessly through nothing but darkness and shadows.  
Terror surrounded him in every which way, and he was to the point that fear  
no longer affected him; he was numb. He had not a clue where he was. It felt  
like some type of limbo; a forgotten, lonely void that served no purpose  
other than terrorization of its unfortunate guests. But, for many, the term  
resident felt more appropriate. This happened to be the second visit for the  
dragon, who had decided to lay down and rest. That is, an attempt at rest.  
Sleep never came to anyone in this place.

_I'm not letting him get away with this. I refuse to stand by and let that _  
_selfish, deceitful jackass strip me of my freedom for his own gain. I will _  
_not be used. I will not be a tool. And I'm through being his pawn._

A slow, deep-toned wind began to pick up, and he quivered, curling up tightly  
to retain any warmth that he could. The winds in this realm were cold, and  
always left him shivering no matter how hard he tried to keep himself warm.  
He heard a faint screech in the far distance, and it seemed to echo all  
around, leaving him no clue as to which direction it had come from. These  
sounds were normal, but for some reason, this particular screech made him  
quiver. He was afraid; an emotion that had seemed absent for such a long time  
had surfaced. He felt his eyes moisten, his heart rate increase, and his body  
shiver more intensely.

_Ancestors, please-get me out of here, I beg you._

The wind lasted for a few moments, but did die down to a gentle breeze. There  
were still screeches, and they decreased in volume with each passing second.  
He did his best to calm his nerves, he closed his eyes, and thought to  
himself quietly. To the best of his knowledge, there was no way out of this  
barren realm.

_The Well of Souls is gone; I can't use it like I did last time. There must _  
_be another way out-there has to be-the powers that be cannot allow this to _  
_continue. Then again, I suppose he IS the powers that be. No-no that can't _  
_be right. Can it?_

His attention shifted from his own thoughts to the sudden appearance of a  
bright, purple light manifesting in front of him. He was frightened, but felt  
strangely at peace seeing it. The light slowly formed into a recognizable  
shape-a dragon. This was no light; it was a spirit, and it began to speak to  
him.

"Malefor, my name is Rolwend. I was the purple dragon before you."

* * *

Cyril slowly drug his paw around in the water of the fountain outside of the

training center. He sighed, and thought about what Spyro had yelled at him  
earlier in the day. He was still shocked by it; he never thought something so  
mean could have come out of the purple dragon-but he could not help but  
wonder if what was said had been warranted. He heard the doors to the  
building open, and he turned his head to see Ignitus walking out.

"Cyril, I was wondering where you'd gone to. Why didn't you join Terrador,  
Volteer, and I for lunch?"

The ice dragon turned his gaze back to the water of the fountain, and gave  
another sigh, "I'm sorry, love. I've just had a lot on my mind. Do-do you  
think I'm a bitter, old dragon?"

The fire guardian had never heard Cyril speak like this before, and he slowly  
walked to his side, taking a seat beside him before replying, "No Cyril, why  
would I think that?"

"Well, this morning, Spyro was a tad late to give his training. I don't know  
why, but it bothered me more than it normally would, and I gave him a hard  
time about it. I guess I went too far, because he snapped at me, saying that  
I was an angry, old bastard."

Ignitus turned his head quizically, and paused for a few seconds, "Spyro said  
that? That doesn't seem like him at all. Did he tell you why he was late?  
He's usually very punctual."

Cyril shook his head slowly, "No, not really. He just told me that he had a  
bad night. To his defense, I, I didn't let up when I should have. I guess-I  
just feel like he hasn't been acting himself lately. And it worries me."

Ignitus looked around, shocked himself that Spyro would utter such a  
disrespectful phrase, "Did he apologize to you?"

The ice guardian nodded, "Oh, he felt terrible about it and apologized right  
away. He seemed shocked himself. I know he didn't mean what he said, Ignitus.  
But even such things do have a hint of truth in them-and it does make me  
wonder if perhaps I am too bitter and judgemental."

The fire guardian brought his snout to the neck of his mate, and licked it  
softly, "Cyril, don't be so hard on yourself. I love you for who you are, and  
I do mean that. I do think that-you can be a tad, just a tad-bitter to  
others at times, and it would help to work on that, but that doesn't mean you  
should tear yourself down for it. Quite honestly, I'm more concerned with  
what Spyro said. I thought it was just my old age, but I can see you notice a  
change in him too."

Cyril nodded, and turned to look at Ignitus before replying, "There's  
definitely something wrong. He's seemed troubled by something as of late, but  
he will give no hint to what that may be. He insists that there's nothing to  
worry about, but I know something is plaguing his mind. Ancestors only know  
what it is."

Ignitus licked his lips and stared down at the water, thinking about what  
should be done, "Perhaps we should talk to Cynder. She sees him more than any  
of us, and I'm sure he confides in her much more."

The two dragons were startled by the sound of the training center doors  
opening, and they turned their gazes to see a very exhausted, slow-walking  
Spyro make his way to the fountain. He did not say a word to them, and bent  
his head down to take a few drinks of the cool water. He sighed, and took a  
seat, finally turning his gaze to the two guardians. He half-smiled before  
speaking to them.

"Hello, you two. I see you came out to get a small break, too." He looked  
down to the water for a few seconds, and then back up at the two dragons  
before continuing, "Cyril, listen to me. I'm sure you've been unsettled by  
how I reacted this morning. I still feel awful about it-and I'm very sorry."

The ice dragon turned to look to his mate, who returned the gaze, and the two  
older dragons exchanged a look of concern before turning back to Spyro. Cyril  
nodded, and replied to the purple dragon.

"Spyro, don't fret over it. I know you didn't mean it. We're-we're more  
concerned with your well-being right now. Ignitus and I can both tell that  
there's something," he paused, "Not quite right."

Ignitus nodded in agreement, "Spyro, look at yourself right now. You're  
fatigued. Please, if there is something troubling you, we want more than ever  
to help."

The purple dragon could feel a mixture of guilt, sadness, exhaustion,  
frustration, and fear overtake him. The nightmares were eternally on his  
mind, he had barely slept at all in the past three days, his temper was much  
shorter than it used to be, and now his friends, students, and mate were all  
beginning to think there was something seriously wrong with him. He was a  
purple dragon; a dragon of legend that was supposed to be strong-willed and  
nearly invincible. He did not want to show weakness like this; as far as he  
was concerned, he was not allowed to. He could feel tears welling up in his  
eyes, and he kept quiet.

Ignitus tilted his head, getting more worried now, and softly spoke, "Spyro?"

The purple dragon gritted his teeth and stared directly at Ignitus, speaking  
in a quivered, frustrated tone, "I'm fine! Okay? I'm fine! There's nothing  
going on with me right now that I can't handle!" He began to cry as he spoke,  
"I know you all think I'm on the track to a breakdown, but I'm not! Just,  
just worry about yourselves, alright? I'm an adult, I know how to take care  
of myself!" With that, he turned away, and flew off into the sky.

All Cyril and Ignitus could do was look at each other, worried expressions on  
both of their snouts, and hold each others' paw as they watched the younger  
dragon fly off.


End file.
